They rode along in what would have been comfortable silence had his mind not been racing.
The beautiful drive through the open country, the rolling fields of flowers and vegetables lulled them into a quiet, peaceful camaraderie. There was something right about having her and the boy with him, so right it tempted him to reach for her hand. But he didn’t.
Get over it, Montgomery.
The picture didn’t fit anymore. A wife and kids of his own was an old, faded dream.
Best not to go there. You don’t even know who she is.
“Are you staying at Rose Cottage again?” she asked.
“Not this trip. I decided to camp out at the house. Glenn had the electricity and water turned on, so I brought a sleeping bag, an air mattress, and a microwave. I hope I’ll get to stick around a couple of weeks before I have to go back to L.A.”
“Will it be hard working from here?”
“I’ve got a great partner.” He couldn’t say more, so he let the subject drop. As they rode along in silence again, listening to the guitar soloist, it was easy to imagine how good things might be between them, until he reminded himself that nothing about keeping a relationship going was easy. It would be even harder with all the lies between them, both his and hers.
As they came around the last bend in the canyon, the panorama of the ocean at sunset unfolded against the horizon. The setting sun stained the sky, slowly transforming the tints from blazing brilliance to muted evening hues.
“Have you started my painting yet?” he asked her.
“You’ll be the first to know when I do.” She smiled as she stared ahead, watched the colors collide.
“Are you seeing them right now?”
“Who?”
“People from the past. The characters that you include in your paintings.”
“Sometimes I get fleeting glimpses. I can’t explain how it happens. I work on the landscape first, give them a place to stand. Sometimes when I pick up the brush, they suddenly appear in my mind’s eye, and then they begin to take shape on canvas.”
She sounded perfectly serious, though he’d been half kidding when he asked.
“You don’t think they may have actually existed once, do you?”
She shrugged, looked at him, and smiled. “Who knows? Maybe. I like the idea of believing in the magic of them suddenly coming to life again in my work.”
When they pulled up in front of the mobile home, and Jake turned off the motor, Chris came instantly awake.
“Mom, can Jake stay for dinner?”
“We’re just having macaroni and cheese, but you’re welcome to share,” Carly offered.
“It’s the box kind,” Chris bragged. “That’s my favorite, Jake. How about you?”
“It’s the only kind I ever make.” Jake pictured the slick little tight macaroni with orange mystery cheese sauce. “Really, it is.”
Once they were all inside, he insisted she let him set the table. Carly mixed up the mac and cheese, rustled up a hearty green salad, and toasted bread with butter and Parmesan.
The three of them sat at the small Formica dining table. He and Carly both fell silent, but Christopher chattered away.
Jake couldn’t help thinking that this was the way it should be for Carly and Chris. They should be part of a family that cared about and watched over them. They deserved a host of extended family to celebrate Christmas with, to share birthdays and all of life’s triumphs and tragedies. But for whatever reason, whatever it was Carly feared, they’d been denied the joy of family.
Most days what the two of them shared was probably enough.
But what about Carly’s nights? Were they as long and lonely as his?
What of the dreams she surely dreamed in the desert when she thought that she and Rick and Christopher would have a future together?
When they finished dinner, Christopher cleared the table without having to be asked, showing off for Jake as he carefully carried everything across the kitchen. Carly asked Jake if he wanted coffee or decaf, but he declined both.
“Do you have any homework?” Carly asked Chris.
“Nope. I did it during free time in class.”
“Then you’d better get to bed. Get ready and I’ll come tuck you in.”
Chris paused in the kitchen doorway, macaroni smudges on his Stingray T-shirt, one sock crumpled around his ankle. His hair was shoved to one side, matted down by his ball cap. There were crumbs at the corner of his mouth.
“Can Jake tuck me in tonight?”
“Chris . . .” Carly turned to Jake with an apology on her lips, but he gave a slight shake of his head. Chris’ request was not the imposition she thought. It simply left a hole in his heart where his conscience had been hiding.
“Sure thing,” Jake promised. “Call me when you’re ready.”
When Chris ran out of the room, Carly turned to him.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I never meant to impose on you like this.”
“Carly, helping you, being with Christopher, these aren’t impositions.”
“He already thinks the world of you, Jake.”
He glanced over at the empty doorway. “I know.”
The trouble was, he really did know. And it was killing him.
Chris changed faster than ever, tossed his dirty clothes into the laundry basket, jumped into his ’jamas and brushed his teeth. He even wet the corner of a bath towel and scrubbed his face before he flew back to his room and hopped into bed.
“I’m ready, Jake!” he hollered. Then he scrunched down and pulled the covers up to his chin and tried to pretend he was sleepy when Jake walked in, but he ended up grinning like the Cheshire cat in the Alice video.
“You look pretty well tucked in to me,” Jake teased.
Chris liked the way Jake’s voice sounded. Not all soft and lovey like Mom’s. It was big and deep and . . . comfortable, like the old sofa in his mom’s studio. It made him feel all toasty just like when he drank a cup of hot chocolate on a cold afternoon.
“You gotta sit on the edge of the bed and talk about stuff before you tell me goodnight,” he told Jake.
“What kind of stuff?”
“Important stuff. Like, you ask, ‘How was your day?’ And if I say it was bad, you say, ‘It’ll get better.’ ”
“How do I know that?”
“Because tomorrow’s always better. It’s when you get another chance to do things right.”
Jake sat. Chris could tell he was trying to be real careful not to squish him. Jake kept looking at him funny, too, like he was thinking about somebody else, maybe. Chris started to worry that Jake might be thinking of some other kid.
“It’s your first time, right?”
“First time for what?”
“Tucking somebody in.”
“Officially, yes. I’ve got a niece and nephews, but they never asked me to do this.”
“Since it’s your first time, you don’t have to tell a story.”
“Thanks. I’ve got to get up to the house before it gets too dark anyway.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“You feeling tucked in yet?”
Chris wriggled a little deeper beneath the covers. “Kinda. Jake?”
“What, Chris?”
“Are you married?”
“No. I was once, though.”
“You got any kids?”
“Nope.”
“Do you ever want any?”
Jake got real quiet, like he was thinking really hard, then he said, “Well, that’s a difficult question. I used to want some really badly when I was first married, but since I’m divorced now, I don’t think about it much.”
“You’d be a real good dad.”
Jake looked at the wall, then he looked really funny, like somebody was pinching him.
“What makes you think so?” When Jake spoke, Chris could hardly hear him.
“You don’t yell or anything. You’re a good ball thrower. You’ve got a killer car.”
“It takes more than that to be a good dad, Chris.”
Chris didn’t think so, but he was willing to listen to what Jake thought. “Like what?”
“Like patience. Do you know what that is?”
“Sure. Mom always tells me to be patient. It means you have to wait and wait for something to happen or for somebody to do something, and you can’t get mad or whine if it takes too long.”
“Right. You have to be a good teacher, too, so you can teach your kids what they need to know.”
“Like how to play ball.”
“Yeah, and other things. Like about life.”
“Like a mentor.”
“Right.”
“And you have to love ’em no matter what they do,” Chris added, feeling proud of himself, thinking about his mom.
Jake waited so long to say something else that Chris thought he was all done talking. Then, in a voice that sounded like he was catching a cold, Jake added, “That’s probably the most important part.”
Chris yawned, rolled over and smiled against the pillow. Jake pulled the covers higher around his shoulders and gave his head a pat.
“See,” Chris mumbled, closing his eyes. “I know you’d be a real good dad. You already know all about it.”
Carly walked Jake to the door. She’d heard him and Chris talking softly, but knowing how important it was to Christopher to have Jake to himself, she resisted the urge to join them.
The thought that her son was losing his heart to this man scared her to death, but no matter what came of her own relationship with Jake, she hoped it was better that Chris be exposed to the man’s kindness and honesty than to deny her son.
When she and Jake stepped out onto the porch, he pulled on his sport coat. Before she realized what she was doing, she reached up and straightened the back of his collar.
When he instantly froze, she feared she’d overstepped some boundary she wasn’t aware of and began to pull back.
He surprised her by slipping his arm around her waist and drawing her up against him.
“I want to kiss you, Carly.”
Step away. Move out of his arms. You don’t really know him, do you? Don’t take the risk.
She closed her heart off to the warnings in her mind.
“Then do,” she whispered against his lips.
His kiss came on a gentle sigh, almost as if he were trying to resist but couldn’t, as if he’d fought some inner demon and lost.
His mouth lingered over hers, teased, tasted, toyed. She held onto the waistband of his slacks, kissed him back, thirsting for more. He pressed his palm against the small of her back and pulled her close, letting her know that he wanted even more intimate contact.
Her breasts flattened against the hardness of his chest. She felt his arousal through their clothing.
It was her turn to sigh. She melted against him, wrapped her arms around him, returned the deepening kiss. Their tongues explored, tasted. A soft moan escaped her. Jake tightened his hold as he slowly backed her up against the side of the mobile home.
Not until her legs turned to rubber and her insides to mush, did he lift his head. He stared into her eyes through the darkness that enveloped them.
“We need some time alone together,” he whispered.
“You mean you’re tired of dating Chris, too?”
“We need to talk, Carly.”
His sober tone frightened her. She had no idea what he had on his mind.
“What about?”
“About things. Us. Life. About the fact that I’ve been fighting the urge to touch you since you drove up to the ball park.”
Us. She put a finger against his lips. “Can’t we just be for now, Jake?” It was all too new for this plunge into intimacy. She was barely off the diving board, still hadn’t come up for air, and he wanted to talk about us.
“What about tomorrow night? Can you get the neighbor lady to sit with Christopher?”
Mentally she ran through the week’s schedule and almost groaned aloud.
“Tomorrow’s Thursday. I have to work.”
“Friday, then?”
“Maybe.”
“Call me.” He squeezed her hand. “I left my cell number on the pad beside your phone in the kitchen.”
She thought he’d say good-bye and walk away, but he continued to hold her close, almost as if he couldn’t bear to let her go.
No one had ever held her this way, as if she were something precious, someone who deserved to be loved. Not even Rick.
Jake held her tenderly, as if she might break.
Finally, after another heated kiss, he turned her loose. He finger-combed his hair, ran his hand around his waistband to straighten his shirt.
“ ’Night, Carly. You have my cell number. The next move is yours.”
As she watched him walk away, she couldn’t help wondering where they were headed, and then she said a silent prayer that it was someplace where hearts were never broken and promises lasted a lifetime.
If a place like that even existed at all.
24
FRIDAY MORNING WAS PICTURE-POSTCARD PERFECT. THE SUN was shining, the ocean calm with just enough onshore breeze to ruffle the geranium blossoms in two huge terra cotta urns flanking the door of The Cove Gallery.
Feeling more alive than she had in years, Carly paused to admire the bright fuchsia blooms spilling over the sides of the urns as she carried her latest finished piece inside.
“Well hel-lo stranger! Where have you been hiding?” Geoff spread his arms in greeting as he stepped out from behind the counter and crossed the room to meet her.
Taking the large, mounted canvas, he held it at arms’ length, admiring the work with a slow, deliberate eye. It depicted the cove during a storm. Bloated gray clouds hung low over the water. Wind battered the crescent bluff. A sea captain stood alone near the edge of the land, buffeted by the elements. With one hand he anchored his hat, with the other, he clutched the lapels of a double-breasted pea coat.
“This is a real beauty.”
“I named it Weathering the Storm.”
Geoff winked at her. “Has Mr. Luscious anything to do with the inspiration behind this one?”
There was nothing she could do about the blush kindling her cheeks, so she simply smiled. “Jake’s been angling for a sunset, but I guess the sea captain just had to be finished first.”
Geoff carried the painting into the back room where he framed and wrote labels for the pieces to go on display.
While Carly waited for him to return, her gaze swept the room. She noticed quite a few new paintings hanging since the night she had filled in for Geoff.
He walked back into the main room carrying two steaming mugs with tea bag tags dangling over the rims. He handed her one.
“Thanks.” She took care not to slosh the steaming liquid. “How’s business?”
“Business is off to a great start, but let’s not go there right now. I want to hear all about your love life.” He led her over to two low retro armchairs positioned so that they offered a view of the gallery pieces as well as the front window.
He folded one leg beneath him, blew on the steaming tea. His left brow slowly arched as his lips curved into a knowing half smile.
“Well? Are you going to dish the dirt or not?”
When she drove Chris to school earlier that morning, she had a feeling that seeing Geoff might help settle her nerves. Her heart was already lighter, and she was smiling.
“There’s no dirt to dish,” she laughed.
“Oh, come on. Last time we talked, you were getting ready to go on a picnic at the hunk’s place.”
“Has it been two weeks? Let’s just say things started out fine, but then Chris took off down the arroyo, and I thought he was lost. I got pretty upset.”
“Well that’s understandable. Is Chris all right?”
She nodded, testing to see if the heady lemon herb tea was cool enough to sip. “He’s fine, and of course I eventually settled
down. The next day Jake had to go back to L.A.”
“Too bad.”
Carly took another sip. “But he’s back.”
“Aha.”
“Aha, what?”
“Originally he claimed to be passing through, just here to inquire about your work. Looks like he’s attracted to a bit more than your talent.”
“Actually, he’s rented a house up on Lover’s Lane because he’s planning to spend a few days a week here this summer.”
“Go, girl.” Geoff stared down into the cup as if looking for a sign, then met her eyes again. “Or aren’t you interested?”
“I’m interested. Very interested.” Then she took a deep breath. “I’m just not sure how he feels about me. We’ve been to dinner and on a picnic, with Chris along. The last time we were together, Jake left the next move up to me.”
“What’s the problem? Call him.”
“And then what?”
“What do you want to happen?”
It had been so long, she wasn’t sure. She’d been so young when she fell for Rick. He’d been her first headlong infatuation, her first love. During the month they shared, she’d gone from a girl to a woman, lost her virginity, learned of sensual delight and passion.
The rest of their story had been an emotional roller coaster ride from beginning to end. She had no idea what to expect from a real relationship.
What did she want now?
“Yoo hoo. Carly . . .” Geoff leaned closer, waved his hand in front of her face. “Where’d you go?”
“I’m sorry.” She rested the mug on her knee. “I was just trying to come up with an answer. I have no idea where to go from here.”
“Has he kissed you yet?”
“Yes.”
“More than once?”
“Yes.”
“Well then.” He tapped his chin, watched a couple walk past the gallery window, ready to greet them if they came inside, but they kept on walking. “I’d say you need to sample the goods.”
“This isn’t exactly like picking out a melon at the store.”
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